


Serial Tune

by Moonrose91



Series: Definition of a Human [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dehumanization, F/M, Gen, Het and Slash, Human Experimentation, It Gets Better, M/M, Teambuilding, Trust, minor crossover, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lab was in Lateveria. That wasn't going to stop them from investigating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Right Under Their Noses

Maria Hill is leans over her console in the helicarrier, eyes narrowing slightly as she noted something.

In-between saving the world from alien invaders, having to deal with Loki’s escape artist tricks, the fall-out of the Avengers learning they had been lied to about the death of one Agent Phillip Coulson, and cleaning up after the mess, the log hasn’t been noticed. “Agent Piten, when did the activity spike in this area?” she ordered and the agent in question, a tall man who with wiry muscles, immediately stood and strode over to her quickly, leaning to investigate the area Agent Hill had demanded intel on.

“About a day before the Chitari mess, ma’am. We were going to send in the Black Widow when she finished with her Russian contact job, but we haven’t been able to bring her in and clear her for duty for it. She’s the only agent we have that would be able to blend in seamlessly with only a quick look around,” Agent Piten explained.

“We have _nothing_ on this area?” she stated.

“Only that it was once part of the Latevarian government property before the…dictator sold it. We believe it may now be a lab, but…with our relationship with Latevaria shaky, to put it mildly, we can’t find much of anything on who bought it or why,” Agent Piten answered.

“And we go investigate, we could cause an international incident,” Agent Hill muttered softly.

It was true.

Unless they had good cause, which Widow could provide, they were stuck. “Get me all the intel we have on this area _now_ Agent Piten,” Hill ordered and the man quickly rushed off to obey.

Taller though he was by more than a foot, Agent Maria Hill terrified him out of his mind.

*~*

 

The woman was beautiful.

One of the newer scientists, so he wasn’t entirely acquainted with her yet, but that didn’t stop his eyes from travelling down her platinum blonde hair that flowed just past her shoulder blades, held back, out of her face, by plain hair pins. She was leaning over the console, her weight shifted _just_ so, practically teasing the head of security. She glanced over her shoulder, glasses not masking the glittering green eyes, and she smiled at him. “What can I do for you Mr. Nyst?” she questioned, German accent thick, yet somehow rolling his name off her tongue.

He had a thing for smart women and the fact she was on this project, even in an abstract way, said that she was smarter than most. “Dr. Heinrich, it is more what I can do for you. I…intercepted your ID badge replacement paperwork. You lose it too often, Doctor,” he answered and she flushed dangerously.

“Oh. What am I going to do then, Mr. Nyst? It…this project, it is so important to me,” she whimpered out and immediately grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms around him tight while she began to sob.

Nyst was not a hard hearted man. He shifted and hummed a bit, before he carefully rested his hands on her shoulders. “I…I could you let you into where you need to go,” he stated.

She looked up, glasses stained with tears and smiled shakily. “Would you? It is lab 900F,” she stated and he nodded.

She thanked him profusely, switching between English, Lateverian, and German as they hurried to the lab she needed. He quickly slid his card through and, when they were through the door, she suddenly changed in demeanor. With a swift kick, her heeled shoe hit his temple and his world starred out.

Another hit, and his world went dark.

The blonde woman shook her head and carefully pulled off the glasses, pulling them apart before she slid a small device into her ear, the wire carefully being slid out of the thick band, before the small throat mic came out. “I’m in. Remind me to thank Stark for the new toys,” she stated.

 _“Don’t. Stark has a big enough ego as it is,”_ Coulson’s voice stated and she smirked, even as she shifted the body around so she could hide him. She immediately used the other half of the glasses to reveal them being a flashdrive. She found the nearest computer and plugged it in.

She smiled a little as the computer was hacked into within seconds and began to download everything. With that she stood and began to walk down, for the first time going to take a closer look at the closed tubes that were set up along the walls, each set in their own generator.

Natasha, hair dyed, began to walk down and knelt at one of them, reading the electric serial that ran along the bottom. “05-04Y360D/AGM-SCSY/LA03FRGRRU-LR-WS/AUDXEMGTOPST/1000F,” she murmured.

 _“My hearing isn’t as good as it used to be, Widow, so you need to speak up,”_ Coulson stated and she shook her head, slightly, at that, before she took a picture. She stood up slowly and looked into the tube…only to find that she was looking at a sleeping face.

Female, Caucasian, anywhere from early to late teens, the odd lighting and the liquid she was floating in distorted her hair color and there were wires or tubes running everywhere. The glass only allowed one to see her face, but Natasha had little doubts that the girl, whoever she was, was probably not clothed.

Natasha glared and gripped her hands into fists, briefly, before she, carefully, took a picture of the sleeping girl.

“Sir, I know what they are doing,” she stated as she walked down, taking more pictures and wondering what the numbers in front meant.

While all started with 05, what was after the dash was insane. A long list that Natasha didn’t have the translation to, and it irked her.

Banner was only able to teach her so much, enough to pass off that she was an obscure, radical, scientist, but they hadn’t looked too hard at her credentials.

They needed a scientist who didn’t ask too many questions, would be thankful for the chance.

There were others, all female, in here, and ranged in ethnic diversity, but not age.

“Sir, I know what they are doing here,” she repeated, a little louder.

 _“What?”_ Coulson asked.

“Human experimentation,” she answered simply.

The curse on the other end was particularly vile and Natasha kept it tucked away for future use. _“Who is there?”_ Coulson asked.

“Don’t know yet. But…in the lab I am in? All females, all ethnic groups. They seemed to just grab anyone who wouldn’t notice them gone,” she stated, even as she took more pictures, always making sure to keep it as…noninvasive as possible.

Faces and wires, or tubes, were all that could be seen.

Natasha twitched upon hearing the sound of someone approaching. Quickly, she rushed to the computer and typed rapidly, hissing when she saw that it wasn’t even fifty percent completed. She twitched and cursed before she hid, hoping that no one would notice that it was downloading files.

She glanced out to see another female scientist walk in, except that she didn’t detour over to the computer. She just walked down, checking each tube. She was the quiet one; brown hair pulled up into a bun with hair falling out of the bun.

Quiet, meaning she didn’t like to talk to herself.

Damn.

Natasha waited, breath bated, but the scientist never came over and left quickly. Natasha let out a sigh of relief and rushed to the computer.

And then the klaxon blared and screams of an intruder echoed through the hallways.

Time to run.

She grabbed what they had, disengaging the flashdrive, clearing out all evidence that she was downloading anything, and quickly put her glasses back together, flipping her collar up to hide the wire. She walked quickly along, even as the security ran through, though they ignored her.

Natasha picked up speed as she followed everyone else, looking for an exit. Her green eyes darted, even as she carefully headed for where one of the trucks was preparing to head out.

“Care to give a girl a lift?” she asked, smiling coyly up at the man with the sandy blonde-brown hair and blue eyes.

“Always ma’am,” he answered and she swung up into the back with the aid of his well-muscled arms before she settled amongst the crates, the man cleared to head out.

Once clear, she slipped up front, glasses pulled off, along with the wig, revealing short curly red hair. “Well, that was fun,” the driver stated and she smacked his arm.

“Shut up Barton. I’ve got the intel, but not all of it, sir. The klaxons went off before I could finish,” Natasha hissed at the driver, or Clint Barton, before she focused on Coulson.

_“You got out safe, Agent. That’s good enough. Did you find out who they were?”_

“Complete blanks. I don’t think Barton found out either. We’ll ditch the truck and hike out to the rendezvous point,” Natasha answered.

_"Roger, Agent. Over and out,”_ Coulson answered and she looked at Barton, who was staring pointedly ahead.

“He says ‘tell my lover that I miss him dearly and the last two months without him were torturous’,” Natasha deadpanned.

Clint flushed before pulling his cap over his eyes more. She shook her head, focused ahead. “What were they working on?” Clint asked.

“You don’t want to know,” she responded and Barton fell silent.

After that, the only sounds were the rumble of the truck as it drove over rough roads to the nearest border and the occasional rattle as a tire went over a stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started writing this before Captain America came out. So...yeah. While I rewrote stuff, like Steve's personality, when the Captain America Movie came out...yeah...I wasn't rewriting the entire thing for The Avengers, because I was mostly picking and prodding with what little information I had.
> 
> I don't read comics that often, not because I dislike them, but because I can't find a good comic shop.


	2. What Will Be Done and What Must Be Done Are The Same Thing...Right?

Natasha shifts a bit and rolls her head slightly as they look over what she was. Face recognition is going through on the faces she took pictures of, but there is nothing.

 

It was like the girls had just appeared out of thin air.

 

“I was never allowed in any of the M labs, so I think they kept the female separate from the males,” she added as they poured over what she had. No one could make sense of the numbers and letters, except that the ‘05’ was a brand, in a way, on the girls. They all fell under that bracket and, other than that, they have nothing on the serials that stretch across the base.

 

“They wanted to keep problems down,” Barton stated.

 

She twitched her head towards him. “They didn’t want the male scientists to get ideas. Whoever was in charge…they executed anyone who went into the other lab. One of the other drivers saw it. The security guards seem to be the exception,” Barton added.

 

Natasha gave a nod. “That makes sense. The scientists I talked with were all in the gray morality area. Wouldn’t take much for them to abuse that power. Keep women overlooking the girls, men over the boys. Like the Red Room,” Natasha answered, calmly.

 

“Keeps the problems down, but doesn’t eliminate them,” Barton pointed out.

 

“And that’s only for now. We don’t know what will happen after those girls get out of the tubes,” Natasha added.

 

Barton’s face blanked out briefly, like he was fixating on a target and Fury let out a long and low sigh. “Well…that’s a problem. We can’t send the Avengers into this,” he stated and Coulson merely gave a soft sound of agreement as he looked through the pictures and information, sorting it mentally as well as physically. “JARVIS, stop hacking this and feeding it to Tony. We need intel before we bust it open,” he suddenly stated.

 

“My apologies, Agent Coulson,” JARVIS answered, his voice tinny, and Fury cursed violently as he stormed out, probably to go yell at Tony Stark.

 

The man was a menace.

 

The minute Fury left, Barton turned on Coulson. “So, when are we going to rescue these people?” he asked.

 

Coulson didn’t answer, still sorting as the face recognition program ran at his elbow.

 

“Phil…” Barton pressed.

 

“I don’t know, Agent Barton,” Coulson cut off, never looking up. Natasha turned to stare at him.

 

Natasha settled back slightly at the way that he said it.

 

“You don’t think SHIELD will get in there, because it is in Doom’s country,” Natasha stated.

 

Coulson doesn’t answer, just focuses more on the intel he is sorting. “Is Agent Barker available?” he asks instead.

 

“No. He’s drawing up a map for some caves they found in Mongolia that seem to have been used by the Ten Rings recently,” Natasha answered.

 

Coulson muttered unsavory things about cartography being a lost art before he focused down again, trying to piece together how the labs and other buildings looked from Natasha and Clint’s vivid descriptions. “There were doors to closets that were locked, but we couldn’t tell you how deep they were,” Barton added coldly.

 

The agent looked up then. “I can’t order the helicarrier there, Agent Barton. I can’t save any of them if I _don’t have the intel_. I can’t do anything and I wish I could,” he stated and Barton relaxed then.

 

He relaxed only as he could around Coulson. Natasha sometimes wondered how that got started, this relationship that is definitely against the SHIELD manual, but everyone seems to know about and then promptly roll their eyes or shake their heads whenever someone stutters out something in shock.

 

Of course, in return, only Barton can get Coulson to admit that he has a heart beating in his chest, and is not, in fact, an android.

 

“What do you need Coulson?” Natasha asked and, just like that, the three of them turn their focus on a lab in the middle of Latevaria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it is so short. This will jump in length a lot, just to warn you.


	3. For Every Wrong

It took them three months before they were able to move in and that was only after Natasha had risked life and limb to climb her way back into the fortress of labs to get a better rundown of the layout, always keeping to the shadows and dancing her way through the camera's blindspots.

 

She was in her element, keeping her comments to herself, even when she practically walked up the wall so she could hide in an upper dark corner, terrified that she would distrub the dust up there enough to alert any passer-byers that she was there.

 

There and terrified, she overheard some of the most interesting comments, mostly about 05-05Y000D. Apparently, that subject (and she bristled at the way they referred to each and every one, even the ones they scathed and said should be eradicated from the experimenting, as an object of scientific curiosity, if that highly) was exceeding expectations, that it’s (not she or he, just it). They commented that it might be given a treat, as if he or she were a pet dog that had just performed a trick after many painstaking months of work.

 

Natasha had been scoping out the break room when the sound of people coming had her swinging up onto one of the uncovered beams.

 

“Quick study, that one. It might be a problem later on,” one of the male scientists stated as he walked in, while Natasha made sure she didn’t disturb the dust too much.

 

Why couldn’t anyone dust up here?

 

“Not really. Adaptability is something it needs, for what it was created for,” the female scientist, obviously head of whoever it was they were talking about this time around, stated.

 

“It is a SL, not SC or SY. SL with that much intelligence? Just problems. Problems all around,” the male cut in and the woman snorted.

 

“If they wanted drones, they never would have hired us to make them better. They had perfected drones during World War II, with poor tech and a genius to lead them. We are better off, with better tech and one with true vision to lead the way,” the woman argued.

 

“Spoken like a true fanatic,” the man muttered.

 

“Fanaticism is only bad when it gets out of hand. This isn’t out of hand,” the woman snapped back.

 

The man gave a placating gesture before he settled more against the counter, sipping his coffee while Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

 

If they caught that woman, with the black hair and dangerous eyes, they would need to keep her locked up in a nice, padded, cell and keep her chained with her back flat against said padded wall.

 

The woman was insane.

 

“You just don’t see genius when you encounter it. And like your little SCSY creature. How is it holding up?” the woman snapped and the man glared.

 

“Rather well, considering. Of course, of all, I am the one getting praise for, without me and my little SCSY, we’d all be shot behind the sheds for failure, isn’t that right Dr. Meyer?” the man pushed and she snarled before she threw her coffee mug into the sink, the mug shattering in the metal before she stormed off.

 

The man continued to chuckle madly and smiled before he finished off the coffee.

 

He wasn’t one to talk to himself either.

 

Damn.

 

Natasha distantly wondered what (who) they were talking about.

 

What were they doing to them?

 

She shook her head and waited for the room to clear, along with the hallway before she had gone back out to investigating again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“You know how I said they were closets?” she inquired softly as she stepped back up to Coulson.

 

“Distantly,” he answered.

 

“Unless eight people can fit in there for hours at a time, I think there is an entire sub-terrain lab or something that I couldn’t get to. The entry ways are only through what Barton and I both thought to be locked closets. Not an uncommon practice, especially in a lab, but we should have realized that more goes behind locked doors then in front of them,” Natasha stated.

 

Coulson let out a low sigh and shook his head.

 

“We have no choice. We have to hit, and hit hard, while Doom is distracted by his little rivalry with Richards, this is the one time we can hit hard and fast and not get Doom demanding we return whoever we manage to catch,” Coulson answered calmly and Barton gave a nod.

 

“I’m guessing you won’t, exactly, be sitting out,” Natasha stated.

 

“I’ve been cleared for duty,” was his response, which caused Clint to stare at him in mute horror.

 

It was an amusing look on his face.

 

Natasha, however, focused on Coulson. “Just keep with Stillwell. I don’t think Clint could handle your heart failing on you at a critical moment,” she stated and Coulson glared, minutely, at her.

 

A month of hiding out in the labs, stealing food and living in the ceiling had taken its toll on Natasha however, which was the only reason they didn’t head out that night.

 

It was morning before the first SHIELD operative hit the ground to take the lab by force.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Stillwell kept at Coulson’s shoulder as they moved their way through the labs, finding that people were scattering, walls blank of any symbol or sign of who they were working for. They eventually managed to force a doorway open to discover that Natasha’s second observation had been right; it led down into a pit.

 

Coulson led the way, ignoring Stillwell’s muttered complaints about this and didn’t hesitate to shoot a man, dressed in training garb, in the chest, considering he almost killed Coulson, missing his head by mere inches and killing one of the agents behind him.

 

The hurried down and paused upon seeing what could be a dorm. The doors were all marked with either a green circle or a purple triangle and Coulson had no idea what that meant.

 

They began to search the rooms behind the doors, only to discover a simple army cot, a low table with a cushion in front of it, and a shelf that was a part of the wall itself that held manuals in each room, though what the manuals were varied from room to room.

 

Coulson had begun to move along quicker and finally opened a door, purple triangle, aiming his gun…into a room where a young woman was pressing herself into the corner, hands covering her ears and obviously in full out panic mode.

 

He stared at her for a moment, long sleeved white jumpsuit a brighter white then the walls around them while the girl (too hard to see her as a young woman when she looked like she wanted to melt into the wall behind her) had brown hair, before he flicked on the safety and holstered his gun.

 

He buttoned his suit coat and calmed himself down, wincing internally at the way she seemed to dig the heels of her hands into her ears, as if that would make the madness her life had become go away, though Coulson knew that it wouldn’t happen.

 

She curled up tighter as he walked toward her, which caused him to wince internally, deciding that his gut never betrayed him, not even with Natasha, so he found himself coming to rest out of her arm’s reach.

 

Or what he was guessing her arm’s reach was.

 

It was hard to calculate, even as he noted that the room was different from the others in that it had an abridged version of _Little Woman_ sitting on the bed, with her curled up in as small of a ball as she could get in the farthest corner from the door.

 

He looked up when he heard people enter and waved them away sharply before he focused on the girl again.

 

Her hands were pressed harder on her ears and he sighed lowly.

 

What was it with him and picking up strays?

 

“I need to know your name,” he stated, softly and she looked up then, confusion marring her eyes too hidden in shadow, and partially behind her knees, for him to tell what color they were while bare toes flexed and tried to curl farther under her.

 

He mentally prepared himself, forced his body to not vomit all over what he was about to say, and said, “I need to know your designation.”

 

“05-05Y000D/SCSY/1000F,” she recited off.

 

Coulson decided then and there that picking up strays was a good thing, since it kept him from doing stupid things, such as hunting down everyone who had ever decided to make her less then human and killing them all in imaginatively painful ways.

 

With little consideration for his physical health, he moved forward, which caused her to bury her head back into her knees, and, carefully, picked her up. Coulson then promptly turned and headed straight back out, heading for the perimeter.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“I don’t agree with this course of action, Director Fury,” Coulson stated as he stared at the girl, still in the white jumpsuit though the black lettering where her heart was (05-05Y000DAGM-SCSY/LA03FRGRRU-LR-WS/AUDXEMGTOPST/1000F), sat in the interrogation room.

 

The girl had answered all questions honestly, but not helpfully. She had stared resolutely forward and had behaved perfectly, not even tugging at the restraints, though she had inspected them calmly when they were put on.

 

Since being removed from the explosive situation at the labs, she had calmed considerable, though Fury had his own smirk on his face on seeing how close Coulson had gotten to her in the span of an hour.

 

Barton had taken to hiding in the vents and sulking.

 

Coulson wasn’t going to explain himself on this, beyond pointing out that he hadn’t found Clint, Clint had found him. And he had never pointed a gun at the archer either.

 

And the archer didn’t stare at everything like a well-behaved two year old.

 

Whatever her age, she had been kept ignorant.

 

He would rather she be like Natasha, as horrible as that was.

 

“She needs a handler, Director Fury. And she needs one that won’t expect her to understand anything about how the world works. She lived in a rigid schedule that included a white box that she slept, ate, and lived in with her days being broken up by training,” Coulson continued calmly.

 

“How do you figure that?” Fury asked.

 

“She has the beginnings of calluses on her hands that come from handling guns and knives,” Coulson answered.

 

“And you’re telling me she needs to be given a handler without making sure she won’t slit everyone’s throats?” Fury questioned.

 

“I don’t approve of the method in which you will be doing so,” Coulson corrected quietly.

 

Fury gave him a warning look and Coulson added, “However, you are the Director of SHIELD. It is not like you have six people already baying for your blood.”

 

At that Fury did scowl at Coulson.

 

“If you excuse me, I have to go collect Barton from the vents and find Romanov so that we can return to the Tower,” he stated and left.

 

Neither noticed how the girl’s eyes perfectly tracked where Coulson went, almost as if she could see, or hear, him through the glass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to keep being nervous about this. Have I mentioned I have no beta?
> 
> I am using a lot of personal character interpretation about characters, but I always saw Phil Coulson as someone who got very...protective of those he found or were put into his care. In other words, always putting them ahead of himself.
> 
> Thus the self-sacrificing and why I have this huge 'Coulson would be an AWESOME dad' thing.


	4. If You Want Something Done Right

It had a been a month since they had rescued the girl and Coulson was starting to wonder what it was they were trying to pry from her brain.

 

Had brainwashing been involved? Was she being, for a lack of a better term, reprogramed?

 

Or were they doing something else?

 

Coulson was under no illusions that SHIELD scientists, as a whole, were wearing the white. On most, it was a pale gray, but he knew of some that would happily do anything and everything to get their hands on something that was more.

 

He highly doubted that the girl in the jumpsuit had any information of value locked in her head, even as Coulson carefully, quietly, entered the outer room of where she was being held. For the first time, there was no one to inform him of the progress (or the lack thereof) to get the girl settled into SHIELD.

 

He opened up the inner door and stepped in to find he was very thankful for his self-control.

 

The lab was large and had a glass room in the center. In the center was a cot and the girl was stretched out on it, eyes closed and hands clasped over her abdomen. A scientist, a woman named Sarah Roman, had lost grants over wanting to push the boundaries of what was acceptable in experimentation.

 

Fury had hired her, on the condition she was never left alone with anything.

 

Apparently, no one here had gotten the memo, since she was typing away. “Subject 05-05Y000D/1000F has been silent for a week, refusing to answer questions that cannot be answered by nonverbal cues, or to put simply, yes-or-no questions. 05-05Y000D has not asked for anything. When tested for physical prowess, she showed perfect fighting form in close combat, using knives, hand-to-hand, and even cheap tricks that would be useful in a real world fight. She was obviously created for the field. Dr. Anderson will be testing her stamina and speed later this week,” she reported and Coulson glanced over to see that a recording program was running, kept off the SHIELD server.

 

He walked quietly over and read over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the blatant lies she was typing up.

 

He glanced over to the glass room, wondering where the girl went to the bathroom before deciding that they had to take her out at regular intervals. He read for a few more minutes, listening to the other things (mostly blood work and finding out other things that they could draw from her, such as bone marrow). He reached out and, without a care about how he could kill her through fear (he was actively thinking of ways to scare her to death, actually), placed his hand on her shoulder.

 

The resounding screech of fear had his own ears ringing and the girl shooting up, hands covering her ears with a soft sound of pain.

 

“Roman, I would love you to answer two questions, and in this order. Why isn’t the girl already released into the care of her future handler and why are you in here alone?” he asked, voice pitched into the deadly tone while the girl stared up at him.

 

Roman was trembling and he sighed softly. “Answers, Roman,” he demanded in that voice that suggested he would be putting her through a fate worse than death soon if she didn’t answer.

 

“Subject 05…” she began, only to get interrupted.

 

“Say her name,” Coulson hissed.

 

“The subject doesn’t have one,” she answered shakily.

 

Coulson let out a low sigh and released her. “Open up the room, now,” he ordered, even as he copied all of the recordings and placed the copy in his pocket. He was satisfied with how quickly she had obeyed, and chalked it up to the rumors about how he had been revived through black magic and now commanded legions of the undead.

 

Oh, the office gossip never stopped amusing him.

 

Coulson strode in, staring down at where the girl, thinner than before, sat on the floor. “This was not authorized. Come with me,” he ordered and she immediately stood, bare feet twitching as they touched the cold floor, but she followed after him happily.

 

He nearly jumped when he felt something bump his hand and he turned slightly to find that she had reached out, gently touching his left hand, before her fingers withdrew quickly, as if she was trying to thank him or something.

 

He stared at the top of her head (he was wrong by an inch, she was five foot three) and gently pat her head before he turned and continued.

 

She was blinking in shock and surprise before she quickly ran after him to catch up.

 

Behind them, Roman whimpered, terrified half out of her mind.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Coulson didn’t pause to enter Fury’s office, the girl padding behind him. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing at the chair.

 

She didn’t hesitate to obey, sitting at the very edge of the chair before Coulson flipped the copied recordings onto Fury’s desk. “They were experimenting on her,” he stated.

 

“Not testing her limits, not figuring out if she has programing we should worry about, they were experimenting on her. And they never gave her a name which was what they were supposed to do right off,” Coulson continued and Fury looked up at him.

 

“Well, then, I guess I’ll need to give her a handler. One that won’t get frustrated when she doesn’t understand the outside world, who has time on his hands to do that, and is in a place where if she does have a problem and acts on a program in her brain, people will be able to take her out quickly and efficiently. Someone who, even when they have to focus elsewhere, will be able to insure that she gets adjusted to the world, which both previous holders didn’t do,” Fury answered.

 

Coulson didn’t like the way he was smirking at him.

 

“That would be for the best,” Coulson responded.

 

“Thank you for volunteering Agent Coulson. I expect her moved into your floor of the Avenger’s Tower by the end of the day,” Fury answered.

 

Coulson stared. “You can’t expect me to allow Tony Stark anywhere near her, can you? It will be hard enough for her to adjust to the normal people! The Avengers are not normal by any stretch of the imagination, nor is anyone who is associated with them. She should have a handler down in the backlogs of SHIELD, helping…” he began to argue, only to be cut off by Fury’s glare.

 

“Agent Coulson, I can’t trust her with anyone but you. I know you’ll find out if she can be trusted and maybe even keep her in SHIELD when she can make her own choices. But, until then, she has to be somewhere that will be, relatively, safe and learn. And, depending on what’s in her head, she might never be able to leave SHIELD except in a body bag, like two agents I can name,” Fury stated and Coulson pulled back, mentally.

 

Physically, he had remained at parade rest, about a foot in front of Fury’s desk. He glanced over at the girl, who was staring at her hands.

 

She was pretending like they weren’t arguing over her head and he let out a low sigh. “I understand Director Fury,” he answered and turned to her.

 

“Let’s go. I’m sure our clothing department is going to love you,” he answered, and she looked up at him.

 

“And tell me if you have to go to the restroom,” he added as she stood up.

 

He then left, not seeing the way she cheerfully followed after him, though Fury couldn’t miss the way she seemed ready to trip over herself to keep up.

 

He shook his head a little and stared down at the recording, before he touched his comm. “Hill, I need you to round up every scientist attached to Project Delta-Alpha. We need to clean house,” he ordered.

 

Her affirmative is all he needs to know it will happen.

 

He’s heard the artic is wonderful this time of year. And, well, he can’t help it if the thin ice maps are inaccurate.


	5. The Quiet

Coulson had overseen most of the fitting, the women practically cooing over her, which seemed to just have the girl shut down. He was already talking with a few people who made identities, already real and focused on making her into a person.

 

“What should the name be?” one of the tech guys stated as Coulson was handed the jumpsuit, the serial staring back up at him as he looked down at it.

 

“How about Maggie Yarnell?” he questioned.

 

The tech guy stared a bit, but one of the women, close to Phil’s age, snorted softly in amusement. Coulson just smiled a little and the tech guy looked between them like they had lost their mind before he began to quickly put it together. Coulson turned to watch as the girl, Maggie, hesitantly stepped out, a pair of slip on shoes, without socks, on her feet. The jeans are average, something that one would see at all the time, and she is wearing a woman’s t-shirt, pale pink, and somehow it makes her so much younger.

 

She’s vulnerable like this and Coulson wonders how quickly Natasha is going to take over her training.

 

Or ignore her.

 

He isn’t sure how the red-headed assassin will respond.

 

He doesn’t know how the other Avengers are going to respond either.

 

“Anything else?” he asked, eyes flickering past her to the woman who helped pick out clothes.

 

“We have tons of extras of everything. Buying in bulk helps and she’s average sized, so getting her clothes wasn’t a problem. She’ll need to go shopping, but for now this should cover her,” the woman stated, even as she handed the cardboard box to Maggie, who took it with a startled sound.

 

Ah, she was out of her headspace or wherever she went when she had shut down as the women had cooed around her.

 

Coulson doesn’t stop himself from patting her on the head, however. It seems to be the default way he’s handling her and he’s not sure what to think about it.

 

Thinking of her as less then human is a way to start bad thoughts and noticed that she kept shifting a bit.

 

As if in pain or uncomfortable.

 

He'd have to look into that. “We’ll work on it. I am sure Romanov will enjoy a shopping companion,” he answered and looked down at her.

 

“Let’s go,” he stated and walked. He heard her walking after him.

 

It sounded like when Natasha made sure to be heard.

 

Then and there he had confirmation that she was trained.

 

He continued walking, leading her along. Once clear of the clothing department, he turned and focused on her. She had stopped about a foot and a half behind him. “How are you?” he asked.

 

Her head twitched to the side in confusion.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Okay. I went to the restroom before they had me try on…this,” she answered and shifted again.

 

“Are you uncomfortable about anything?” he asked.

 

Sometimes, he wished he was female, if only so this conversation would not get stranger than it already was. He felt like this whenever he had to pry answers from Natasha too.

 

“These…they feel strange,” she answered.

 

He blinked a bit. “We’ll get you some clothes that aren’t jeans then,” he responded and nodded.

 

She blinked a little and then quickly stepped up so she was closer, even as Coulson began to head toward where he had parked his SUV.

 

This…this was going to be interesting.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

He’s not even fully out of the parking lot when she shucks off her shoes. She wriggles her toes and curls up, pushing her hands back over her ears as she leans her forehead against the window of the passenger door.

 

“Why did you do that?” he asked softly.

 

She mumbled softly and he sighed. “You need to speak up,” he stated.

 

“I wanted them off,” she stated.

 

“Why did you want them off?” Coulson pushed.

 

"They were uncomfortable," she answered and he knows he can't push.

 

"We'll get you new ones," he stated.

 

He nearly misses the soft whine in response to that and wonders when she'll vocalize her personal opinions. He is willing to lay odds that she doesn't like shoes over not wanting to wear them at all because they hurt.

 

This was why Barton cackled madly whenever he sat with Coulson when they reviewed her interrogation tapes.

 

Or when Barton forced them to review them.

 

Eight hours of her giving answers that weren’t answers.

 

Clint had declared it the best piece of entertainment since they tried to get Tony to give up his tech.

 

Maggie shifted a little. “Maggie,” he called softly and she twitched a bit.

 

“Maggie, I need a vocal confirmation that you understand me,” he stated.

 

“I’m here,” she responded and he wonders where she heard that.

 

A response that makes sense, but tells him enough to let him know that she's in the vehicle with him and not a thousand miles away.

 

“Do you understand that your name is Maggie Yarnell now?” he questioned.

 

Her head twitches, in that confused way she has, but she doesn’t ask. “You aren’t just an experiment, a subject, something to be poked and prodded. You are a person and deserve a name. Maggie Yarnell happens to be it,” he explained.

 

“Oh,” she answered and silence fell.

 

Never one for silence, Coulson turned on his big band music and made sure to keep it low. She had tensed at the movement, but after she seemed to be getting into it.

 

Well, at least her foot twitched in time with the music. They are halfway through the CD when she falls asleep.

 

It feels like ops gone FUBAR, with Clint curled up in the back and Natasha curled up on top of him, or next to him if she’s got a concussion. It feels like times they should not have been calm, but were, and he brakes at the red light.

 

They have an hour till they get to the tower.

 

He’s not sure what to do when they get there.


	6. A Song of Tears

Clint was waiting for him as he parked the SUV. He raised an eyebrow at Maggie, obviously trying to discover why she was there and Coulson turned to Maggie, to wake her, until he saw the way she seemed…relaxed. He let out a low sigh and got out, instead of waking her up. “So, she’s been cleared then?” Clint questioned and Coulson could hear the thin vein of jealousy there.

 

Coulson sighed and leaned against the SUV, before he looked at Clint. “No, she hasn’t,” Coulson answered and Clint bristled.

 

“So, what is she doing here?” Clint asked.

 

And Coulson explained, softly and Clint isn’t sure if he should go and kill Fury or be in awe of the man who can somehow manage to always to get the one who could kill him _and_ have everyone think it was an undetected heart defect, do things through preying on the agent’s responsible side.

 

Clint huffed a bit and glanced at the…still sleeping girl. “Maggie Yarnell? Really?” Clint questioned.

 

“Maggie Shields was too obvious,” Coulson answered, but his lips were twitching slightly and Clint snorts before bumping his head against Coulson’s, gently. He let out a low sigh and glanced at her.

 

Clint could do this. He could not be a jealous idiot. “All right. I’ll carry her up to her room on your floor. You grab the box,” he stated and Coulson raises an eyebrow before letting Clint near the passenger door.

 

Maggie nearly wakes up, but all is good. They get up to her room with no one the wiser and settle her on the bed. Clint is still jealous (because Coulson is going to have to focus more on her, trying to do what those scientists didn’t do, while still doing all the work he does for the Avengers, and he’s terrified, terrified, that in it all, he’s going to get lost, that he’s going to lose Coulson), but it isn’t as bad as it was.

 

The shoes are still on the passenger side floor, when Clint goes back down to get Phil’s briefcase, but he doesn’t collect them. Instead, he just walks back up, using the ventilation system to get through the Tower.

 

If it were anyone but him, he would be worried, but it is him, so he’s not, about the fact he doesn’t meet with the security bots.

 

However, they like him and like to clamber on him, rest on his head, cute little four-legged spider bots with a solitary red eye that gleams that charge in metal orbs.

 

Cute as they are, he’s seen what they do to moths.

 

Poor, poor, moths.

 

However, even as Clint climbs, he notes that none of the little bots come near him and he drops into the commune area (the cute little spider bots won’t let him climb above unless he plies them with screws…and he has no idea what they do with them), only to find Natasha waiting for him.

 

“I hear we have a guest,” she stated.

 

“You’ve heard right. Coulson’s her handler, for now,” Clint answered.

 

“Funny, that,” she stated.

 

“What?”

 

“Considering that the last time Fury said ‘for now’, it ended up being permanent,” Natasha answered and headed off.

 

Clint’s not sure how to take that.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Friday nights, after the Family Dinner (Tony has insisted on capitalizing it after they voted to call it Family Dinner, instead of Food Fights of the Century), is Movie Night, usually without fail. The few times they have had to skip it was either because someone was injured and they weren’t there (Tony’s charity events didn’t count and he would grumble, but would watch whatever movie everyone picked either late that evening or Saturday morning so he could feel included), or when they weren’t at the Tower.

 

Tonight, however, everyone was safe and sound, and, because they were feeling nostalgic, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches won by a vote (Phil Coulson’s).

 

Clint is in a sour mood and is swirling his tomato soup around viciously with his grilled cheese to near spillage. Thor is speaking with his indoor voice about Steve as they discuss what movie to watch tonight (one from before Steve was frozen or after Steve was frozen since it was Thor’s night to choose a movie), though it is a bit on the louder side, since he just got back from Asgard where he lives in large halls and a loud and booming voice is an asset, not a hindrance, while Tony and Bruce talk shop.

 

Natasha is quiet, trying to get Clint to open up when Coulson steps in followed closely by Maggie, who is staring with eyes wide at everyone. She looks half-tempted to go running, but Coulson just continues to walk and she trips over herself to keep close to him.

 

“Who is the kid?” Tony asked and Clint notes that she’s wearing sweatpants that are too big for her, just a tad, and he remembers Coulson mentioning that she hadn’t liked the jeans.

 

Well, sort-of.

 

He had practically pulled teeth to get her to admit to the fact that they felt weird.

 

“This is Maggie Yarnell. She’s going to be staying with us for awhile,” Coulson introduced.

 

Maggie looked around and…waved.

 

Well, she was certainly earning the last name.

 

“Welcome, young one, to our table!” Thor greeted brightly and she tensed slightly.

 

Tony eyed Maggie a bit, and nodded, before turning back to Bruce. Bruce gave her a smile and a nod, before he turned back to the conversation.

 

Coulson just sighed and had her sit before he brought her food. Clint would have teased him about the kitty corners the sandwich was in, if he wasn’t in such a bad mood. However, Coulson, once reassured that she was sitting and with them, as it were, he sat next to Clint.

 

He relaxed at that and began to let his eyes flit around the table.

 

He grinned a bit when he saw that Maggie did the same swirling circles with her sandwich pieces into the soup as he did.

 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

Steve and Thor settled on _Dumbo_ , because it was a Disney film and there was a guest (Tony promptly called them ‘sissys’). Natasha seemed intrigued and Clint was back to sulking (he didn’t like movies that had to do with the circus when he had spent most of the day in a bad mood), while Bruce was considering it. Coulson was a blank slate and Maggie, who had eaten her entire sandwich (slowly), but left a lot of the soup (which she had deposited into the sink with her bowl) looked curious.

 

They had JARVIS cue it up as they all settled. Tony flopped over/on Bruce, while shoving his feet under Natasha, something that he only got away with on movie night. Steve had taken over a chair and Thor took the other, while Clint stretched out on the couch, head pillowed on Phil’s lap.

 

Maggie sat on the floor, hugging her shins to her, chin propped on her knees.

 

By the end of the movie, she had migrated to the coffee table, dried tear tracks on her face from where she had sobbed her eyes out during ‘Baby Mine.’

 

All in all, a successful Movie Night that resulted in Maggie disappearing back to her room, while everyone set up Clue, with Phil moderating, because otherwise there would be cheating galore.

 

No one knew how Bruce had done it, to this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone find my little shout-outs? They are super tiny, but I have two (beyond Maggie's last name, which I sort-of lampshade) that I put in consciously. The next part will identify them, however, so don't stress if you can't find them.
> 
> Also, I don't own the rights to either the movie, Dumbo, or the board game, Clue. I just used them because, for some reason, I saw them playing board games when they could.
> 
> And sorry for no Tony/Pepper, or Pepper...or JARVIS.
> 
> They were originally here, until the fic decided that, hey, we're going to stop now.
> 
> And, also, I have no idea anymore if Tony/Pepper is going to be the pairing or if it is going to turn into Bruce/Pepper/Tony.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started writing this before Captain America came out. So...yeah. While I rewrote stuff, like Steve's personality, when the Captain America Movie came out...yeah...I wasn't rewriting the entire thing for The Avengers, because I was mostly picking and prodding with what little information I had.
> 
> I don't read comics that often, not because I dislike them, but because I can't find a good comic shop.


End file.
